by Christa Wick
Rage brought me to my feet. I slammed my fist against the table, my laptop bouncing from the impact. "You stupid bastard. You think cutting off her funds helps me?"
"I do when she has to switch the source she's drawing money from." He yanked a chair from the table and shoved it in front of him to block my advance.
Smart move because I wanted to rip the smug from his face.
"Her bank couldn't handle the hundred thousand a month hitting her account, so Joey arranged for a second account -- with Chicago Third Trust."
I let the information sink in. We owned the bank, used it for financing.
I returned to my chair, more than ready to deal. Dylan had her last known location and the time she had been there. With the right palm greased, I already knew she had purchased a plane ticket to Chicago and even passed through security.
But she didn't board the flight.
I tracked her next two locations, a taxi from the airport to one of the downtown resorts, from which she hopped another cab, this one to the train station. More grease and a few more laws broken by the train station manager scanning the morning's print outs gave me two more potential destinations -- Memphis and New Orleans. The guy lost his nerve when it came to accessing the computer files that would show which train she might have actually boarded.
Lucky for me, the convenience store owner across the street had no legal restrictions on letting Mishka scroll through the images on his security camera. Just like the airport, she had left the building after buying her tickets and headed east -- on foot.
That's where the trail went dead. For all I knew, she still had a friend in Dallas, someone she had called and who had picked her up within blocks of the train station.
I rubbed my palms against my jeans. "Is she still in Dallas?"
He took a seat across from me, his hands folded atop the table. I had seen him take that position a hundred times or more during business negotiations.
Alexa's safety wasn't up for negotiation.
Just one small problem -- Dylan was the only Kehoe on the bank's board of directors. Otherwise, he wouldn't have divulged his source. While he could legally review Alexa's account, I could not.
The airport, the train station -- those indiscretions might land me in jail. Didn't matter. But, mess with the bank and I could bring down the company's entire infrastructure. Tens of thousands of employees could find themselves out of a job, at least temporarily. But, for those living on the edge, it only took a few weeks before their financial house of cards collapsed.
I wasn't ready to break that law -- not yet.
"I haven't slept in a day and a half," I growled. "Just tell me what the hell you want."
He pulled his phone out again and pressed the power button. "I give you this, you stop interfering with me on issues with Marjolein and Riona."
"Riona's off limits. But if you want a little more rope to hang yourself with Jo-Jo..." I stopped and opened up about an inch and a half of space between my thumb and index finger, exactly how much I was willing to yield. "Well, it's your funeral."
Dylan just stared at me, waiting for all the anxiety and doubt inside me to reach critical mass. My brother could write the definitive source on negotiating his opponent's total surrender. I had only seen him bested once and that was shortly after our father had died and we discovered just how much money the old man had siphoned out of the company and bank accounts over the years.
We had pooled our money to rebuild the company, but Dylan was the one with the knowledge to do so. Riona had been a kid still and I was little more than a jock. So the money had been from all of us, but the magic had been all Dylan's. You couldn't beat him in business, especially when he had all the leverage.
My gaze dropped to the phone before I locked eyes with him again. "I need Alexa back."
"And I need Marjolein," he answered, his gaze unblinking, almost reptilian.
I jabbed my finger at the closed door. "She's in the next fucking room, safe..."
My fury dissipated. I rubbed my hands against my bristly cheeks, the coarse hairs scratching at skin that had grown too soft since I left the football field. I leaned against the chair back, my hands returning to the table's, arms slightly apart and palms up.
"Is this really where we're at, you and me -- after all these years?"
He blinked, just once. "She's safe. I have a guy on her."
A knock landed on the studio door.
The tension pushing down on my shoulders shifted to Dylan's. He knew he had a small window of opportunity to drag a concession from me. Like all information, his would age or become available from another source -- whoever was knocking on the door, for example.
"Come in," I called.
The door pushed inward. One look at Marjolein's face and I knew nothing had changed in the last few minutes. Mishka hadn't worked some miracle, Alexa hadn't called Marjolein, and Trash TV hadn't posted a fresh picture of Alexa online with some noticeable landmark in the background.
I still needed Dylan's information.
"We're not done yet, Jo-Jo." Out of ideas, I shut my laptop.
Marjolein slowly crossed the room, her attention on Dylan even though he seemed intent on not acknowledging her presence. She stopped beside him, her arms folded across her breasts in a tense hug. His head tilted slightly in her direction, and he blinked again.
His leverage suddenly neutralized, he pushed an icon on his phone and slide the device across the table.
Alexa, in a bus, a scarf hiding her glorious mane of red hair and an arid, dusty land visible through the windows. All the photo showed me was that Alexa hadn't gone east.
"I told you that your pretty little firecracker is safe, didn't I?"
"Where is she, Dylan?" Marjolein asked. "You can't know and not tell us."
His lips rolled and then a line of sweat beaded across the middle of his forehead.
Half a second later, he caved.
He really was in love with Jo-Jo.
"The jet lifts off for Phoenix in..." he paused, glanced at his wrist and continued. "Forty five minutes. There's a car and driver waiting for you there to intercept her at the bus station. If she gets off before then, my guy will tail her and report back."
I jumped to my feet, my gaze casting around for my briefcase as I scooped up the laptop. Finding it, I shoved the MacBook inside. Jo-Jo had grabbed my jacket and she slid it on over my shoulders. I patted around the pockets for my phone and wallet.
Finding them, I threw my arms around Marjolein for a short, tight hug. I kissed her cheek, the skin wet from a few quiet tears that she had shed after Dylan had revealed Alexa's location. Relief, I guessed, but maybe it had cost her more than I could understand to put herself in front of my brother to coerce his answer.
"Thank you, baby girl." I kissed her again, completely ignoring that Dylan had done anything for me. That was only natural considering that he had tracked down Alexa for his own benefit.
"I'll get a call out to you when I find her," I assured Marjolein.
With that, I was gone.
********************
Checking my watch at the first bounce of the plane's wheels on the Phoenix runway, I cursed my brother for his power play and then the massive dust storm that had forced the pilot to re-route to Albuquerque so we could sit on the tarmac for two hours.
To make matter's worse, the state's severe weather alert for the dust storm had gone out to more than a quarter of the four million plus residents in the valley, overwhelming a few of the cell phone carriers -- including the service used by the only eyes I had on the ground.
For the moment, I only knew that Alexa had gotten off the bus in Phoenix and didn't reclaim her seat. I just hoped she hadn't lost her tail during the dust storm or done something desperate, like take a cab to the Mexican border and walk across to the other side to avoid me, the press and her potential legal troubles.
With my jacket on and a tight grip on my briefcase, I left my seat to wait next to the e
xit while the plane taxied. One of the cabin crew looked like he wanted to lasso me, but I had flown with this particular team at least a dozen times and they knew I wasn't generally such an impatient jerk.
I just couldn't get the idea of Alexa leaving the country out of my mind. Thinking I had rejected her, she had fled my protection. With the money she had at her disposal, even after Dylan's stunt, she could spend a decade living frugally in Mexico without raising the authorities' suspicions. She could also find someone to dummy up another fake ID -- one that might get her arrested or worse since she would be dealing with criminals to get it in the first place.
Let her be in Phoenix...whatever it takes, I'll convince her to stay.
My phone vibrated as the jet came to a stop and the crew swarmed around me to ensure I didn't try to open the exit door before the stairs were in place. I stepped back, allowing them to do their job while I took the call.
"This is Jake, what do you have for me?"
The man grunted his name then gave me an address for a hotel and the room number. "Real dump. Not the kind of place that cares about ID."
"You're keeping watch until I get there," I reminded him.
"Yes sir."
I could almost hear the mercenary smile in his voice as I hung up.
Alexa
Turning the shower off in the cheap hotel I had rented for the day while I collected my thoughts, I heard the wail of sirens on the street outside. I wrapped the bath towel around me, my ears picking up just enough details to know that the siren belonged to an ambulance, its crew and patient likely headed to the hospital four blocks over.
It was maybe the tenth ambulance in the three hours I had been at the hotel. I had already taken two showers to remove all the grime and dust my body had collected from almost two days on the bus and fifteen minutes in the haboob, or whatever it was the locals called the massive dust storms that swept through this time of year.
Opening the bathroom door to grab my clothes, I froze dead in my tracks.
Jake Kehoe stood just inside my hotel room, his back against the door, its broken security chain brushing the top of his shoulder. My purse rested on the floor next to his foot.
He pointed at the carryon bag I had purchased at the airport. "Get dressed."
"No," I protested, my hands clutched around the top edge of the towel to keep it in place.
He prowled forward, his gaze unrelenting. He stopped next to the sagging queen-sized bed. He pointed at the dilapidated mattress. "I'm not fucking you on that. So grab your clothes or I'll carry you out naked."
We were far past the point at which sex, no matter how incredible he made it, could solve our issues. I clutched my towel a little more firmly to my body. "You're not fucking me at all."
He moved closer. I tried to back into the bathroom, but I missed the doorway and found myself trapped between the wall and his hard body.
"I am," he argued. "I'm fucking you long and hard and later, if your lucky, I'll fuck you sweet. I'm doing it all the way to sunrise because you will submit to me."
His fingers curled around the hand that held my towel up. Involuntarily, I relaxed my grip and the material fell to the floor. He planted a palm on each side of my head then pressed his torso against mine.
"I will rule you with an iron hand, Alexa, because that's what it will take to make sure you're safe. I cannot tolerate the idea of losing you or even wondering if you're hurt."
The hard stare and tense muscles of his face contrasted with the raw tones of his voice. He spoke like his mouth was a wound, open and bleeding.
"Why?" I asked. A few nights ago, he had rejected me. Now he sounded like he couldn't live without me. What had changed?
"Because I love you, damn it!"
Those three words -- I love you -- sliced through me and I started to slide down the peeling wallpaper, my head certain to hit the floor when I passed out. And I was definitely going to pass out. I couldn't breathe and my blood pressure felt like it had dropped to zero.
Jake caught me. He dragged my limp body toward the bed but hesitated at the idea of placing me on it. In a last second compromise, he twisted, sat down and pulled me onto his lap. He reached into his jacket pocket, a growl on his lips.
"Why are you making me do this here?"
I wasn't making him do anything. I didn't have the power to force anything from a man like Jake and I certainly didn't know what the hell he was talking about.
His hand never left his pocket. Whatever he had been ready to pull out, he shoved it deep into the recesses of his jacket.
"Clothes -- now."
The command rumbled up from his chest.
"Good luck with that," I said, my vision ringed with a gray fog that spread rapidly toward the center of my eyes. Close to fainting, I remembered my out -- the safety word I had selected that first night in Chicago, the same word that I had carried with me to the other clubs and all our interactions but had never used -- not until that Phoenix hotel room.
"Meringue," I whispered. Jake froze and I repeated the word. "Meringue -- game over. I quit, you win. Time to find some other bimbo to play with."
He must have changed his mind about shielding me from whatever germs inhabited the thin quilt covering the bed because he pitched right, taking me with him then sliding away so that I was on my back on the middle of the bed. Before I had a chance to push up from the mattress, he covered me with his body.
Those eyes of his, with their many colors, stared at me. A muscle ticked on the right side of his face where the jawline stopped at the bottom edge of his ear. His breath pushed hot against my face as his hard hips dug into my fleshy ones.
"You can't imagine how badly I want to spank you right now." His palms touched my cheeks and smoothed my hair aside, his thumbs roughly caressing my lips with the same sliding motion.
"Nope." Despite the weight pressing against me and his arms crowding me, I managed to shrug. "Doesn't matter because you can't. I said the word. You don't have my permission."
He hid his face, his lips close enough to my neck that I could feel their warmth and his cheek against mine. "Baby, there hasn't been a day since I met you that I didn't want you. Right now, yesterday, and all the days before..."
His mouth pressed against my skin. He pinched the flesh with his lips and then sucked for a second before moving an inch over and repeating the process. He fisted both hands in my hair. His teeth took possession of my ear lobe and I felt something wet against my cheek.
I wasn't crying. If there were tears, they weren't mine. I tried to twist my head, but he wouldn't allow it, his grip tightening in my hair.
"When I pulled away at the guesthouse, it wasn't because I didn't want you," he explained. "It's because I thought I couldn't keep you safe if I claimed you. From our first encounter, I've taken from you, reckless and in violation of every rule I ever fashioned as a dominant. So I was returning to those rules. Don't take a woman when she's hurting, fragile..."
His teeth scraped against my collar bone and, when I felt another wet spot on the underside of my chin, I knew by his breathing that I had brought him to tears. It wasn't a waterfall of emotion, far from it. But those few drops touched me in a way his words couldn't.
"No rules now, Alexa." His lips moved across my throat to my other shoulder. "Because this isn't about a dom and his sub anymore."
Up he went, kissing the faint hollow beneath my chin were my pulse beat erratically.
"It's about a man and his woman."
Okay, his words were pretty damn good, too.
My breathing turned shallow as I tried to understand what he was saying. I didn't speak, I didn't touch him back. I just rested there, numb and uncomprehending.
"I can't believe you're making me do this here," he said, repeating the sentiment he had expressed earlier when his hand had been searching for something in his jacket pocket.
My fingers flexed. My arms were along my sides, I just had to wiggle a little bit and I could reach his pockets.
But I didn't. Instead, I looked around the room. Stained wallpaper peeled in places. The carpet was threadbare and soiled. One of the drawers on the dresser was missing a handle. The room was a universe away from the places I had stayed the last two months while traveling with Jake.
I thought back over all the places I had lived for any period. The nicest ones had been with Jake and I had been happy in them -- even when I had simultaneously been miserable -- because I was with him. The second nicest place was after Ruth had married Donald, and that hadn't worked out at all, at least not for me. Beyond those, and the small apartment I could barely afford when I first met Jake, all of the places I had called home had been like this dirty hotel room.
"This," I said, my head and neck swiveling as I looked around the room once more. "This is my natural habitat."
"No," he answered, pulling back and moving so that he kneeled next to me on the mattress. Reaching into his pocket, Jake pulled out a small black box covered in velvet. He pulled the lid back to show a platinum ring with a fat center diamond and double rows of smaller diamonds on each side.
"I bought this two weeks ago, had been looking for just the right ring before we even reached Dallas. I was asking Riona for ideas on the most spectacular way to propose because I knew it would take some kind of Herculean effort to get you to say yes..."
He paused, his thumbs caressing the velvet sides of the box. "Then they showed up and took you away from me even though we were still living together."
Looking around the room again, Jake wrinkled his nose then rolled his eyes. "This wouldn't have made the list of potential places to propose."
"Why are you doing this?" I asked. He had started the conversation saying he wouldn't fuck me in that dingy room. Now he was talking marriage. I had every right to be confused.
He looked at me for a second, his gaze incredulous that someone could be so daft.
"I love you, that's why."
I shook my head. "No one has ever said that to me before."
His nose wrinkled again. "I said it a few minutes ago, baby."
A sound that was as much a laugh as it was a sob left me. "I mean before today."